


Hellions

by HoodedAndromeda



Category: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Movies)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Behavior Problems, Child Behavior Problems, Child Bobby, Child Nubbins, Child Sawyer Twins, Older Sibling Problems, Older Sibling as Third Parent, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Strained family relationships, Stress, Teenage Drayton, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, poor coping mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25827268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoodedAndromeda/pseuds/HoodedAndromeda
Summary: Over the past few months, the twins' behavior in school has begun to spiral out of control. After a particularly bad day, Grandma and Grandpa are called in to have a conference with the teacher. Meanwhile, Drayton picks Bobby and Nubbins up from school early and hears their side of the story.
Kudos: 21





	Hellions

Drayton cleared his throat before picking up the phone. “Drayton Sawyer speakin’,” he said, looking out the station window at the gas pumps, neither of which were in use.

“Drayton,” he was surprised to hear Grandpa’s voice on the other end of the line, “Gramma ‘n me need ya ta pick yer brothers from school.”

“Wh—now?” Drayton checked his watch. It was a quarter to two—he normally didn’t leave to pick the twins up until three. “School don’t let out fer more’n an hour.” Grandpa huffed.

“‘s an emergency.” Drayton squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. The twins had recently developed a strenuous relationship with the second grade. They’d never been the easiest kids to rein in, between Bobby’s defiance and Nubbins’s lack of impulse control. But the past few months, they’d become little hellions. Grandma was receiving notes and calls home at least once a week. This, however, was the first time they’d been sent home, at least as far as Drayton knew.

“What’d they do now?” Drayton asked.

“Dunno yet. We’re headin’ o’er there now, but the teacher don’t want ‘em hangin’ ‘round while we talk.” Drayton sucked in a breath through his teeth. That couldn’t be a good sign.

“A’ight, I’ll pick ‘em up. Want me ta take Bubba, too?”

“Naw, we got ‘im. Bring ‘em home, not ta the station.”

“Yes, Sir,” Drayton answered. Grandpa hung up the phone abruptly, and Drayton followed suit. He sighed heavily, resting his forehead against the window.

“Mister Taylor?” He called out after a moment. Drayton looked over his shoulder to see Harry Taylor, the manager, poke his ruddy face out from behind the door to the broom closet.

“Yeah?” Harry answered, scratching at his patchy red beard.

“Grampa needs me t’get the twins. That okay?” Harry’s bushy eyebrows knitted together as he frowned. Drayton was relieved that Harry was his supervisor—he’d always been a decent man, but he’d been especially kind since Pa left. He never gave Drayton any shit, especially when it came to dealing with his brothers.

“Yeah, yeah, you go on,” he said, flicking his hands in a ‘hurry along’ gesture, “I got it.”

“Thank you.” Harry nodded once, then ducked back into the closet as Drayton made his way out the door. He walked around to the back of the station, then climbed into the little white pickup truck Grandpa had loaned him so he could get himself to work. Drayton started up the truck and took off down the bumpy dirt road. He drove in silence, wondering what the twins could’ve possibly done to get themselves sent home.

Their list of offenses grew by the day—their teacher, Miss Mayfield, was a patient woman. Thank God. She was young and cheerful, but thick-skinned and not the type to take bad behavior lying down. She was ultimately a good match for the twins. Even when she called or sent notes home over their bad behavior, she always brought up at least one good thing they’d done that day. It was clear to everyone that she was trying her damndest with Bobby and Nubbins, but unfortunately, she seemed to be nearing her wits’ end.

The thing that had started up the regular contact between Miss Mayfield and Grandma was Nubbins’s sudden bout of kleptomania—he only ever took small things, like crayons and jacks and sticks of gum, stuff his classmates might not immediately realize were missing. Grandma and Grandpa hadn’t been especially surprised by his behavior since he’d already had habit of taking things without asking since he was a toddler. But that didn’t mean they weren’t disappointed.

Around the same time, Bobby’s temper had grown significantly shorter. He’d always had an attitude problem, but that was mainly reserved for grown-ups and anyone else trying to tell him what to do. Bobby had never been the type to give lip to his peers—he’d always been concerned about having lots of friends, so much so that he’d strike up a conversation with any affable-seeming kid who so much as made eye contact with him. It wasn’t like him at all to pick fights with his pals unless he was very, very tired.

Miss Mayfield handled these problems like a champ, at least as far as Drayton heard. And Grandma and Grandpa did their part to correct them, too. But the kicker came about two months ago, when Miss Mayfield discovered that Nubbins had been keeping a paper bag filled with dozens of dead insects inside his desk, which he’d apparently been harvesting for over four months. Technically, his collection wasn’t hurting anybody—except for the bugs—but everyone knew that it wasn’t right for him to have that. Things only got worse from there. Both twins were getting into shoving matches and arguing with anyone who so much as looked at them funny, and they’d grown destructive. Last week had been the worst of it so far, when Bobby got into it with some kid named Steve.

Bobby’s hair was long, almost coming to his shoulders. He had promised Grandma that she could cut it once it grew past his shoulders, but otherwise he guarded his hair with his life. It got tugged regularly, both by Nubbins and Bubba, though their hair-pulling was usually a consequence of a wrestling match gone too far. Bobby had always handled it without melting down. He’d snap at his brothers and push them away, and more often than not, that was the end of it.

But when this Steve kid had pulled his hair, Bobby responded by turning around and elbowing him in the ribs. He’d hit him hard enough to leave a bruise and knocked the wind out of him. Bobby had also apparently told Steve to “eat shit”—Grandma had washed his mouth out with soap when she heard about that. As far as Drayton was concerned, Bobby had just been defending himself. His real mistake was that he hadn’t waited until after school, while all the kids were walking home or waiting on the playground for rides. He wouldn’t’ve gotten caught if he’d done that. Of course, Drayton would never voice this opinion.

That incident had only warranted a (very long) phone call. Drayton wasn’t sure what they could’ve done that was worse than winding and cussing out a classmate, but it must’ve been pretty damn bad. Finally, he pulled up to the sad, saggy elementary school and quickly spotted the twins sitting on the front steps. Nubbins had a long stick in his hand and was using it to draw something in the dirt, while Bobby stared up at the sky and absent-mindedly picked at a scab on his arm. Drayton was surprised that they weren’t running wild on the deserted playground. They must’ve had one hell of a bad day. He rolled down his window.

“HEY!” The twins looked around for a second before spotting Drayton’s pickup truck parked a few yards away. “Don’t keep me waitin’!” Bobby and Nubbins jumped to their feet, grabbing up their bookbags as they scrambled down the path and to the truck. Drayton leaned over and opened the passenger-side door for his brothers. They stopped just outside the open door, and Drayton noticed that Nubbins had a small purple bruise on his chin.

“Where’s Gramma?” Bobby asked, squeezing the strap of his bookbag tightly, “Miss Mayfield said Gramma was comin’.”

“She’s comin’,” Drayton answered, “but I’m takin’ the two’a ya home.”

“Wh-why?” Nubbins asked. Drayton exhaled sharply.

“‘cause ‘pparently Miss Mayfield wants ta talk wi’ ‘er ‘n Grampa in private.” The twins exchanged a nervous look. “Now get in.” After a brief moment of hesitation, they obeyed, climbing into the cab without any more questions. Nubbins took the middle spot on the bench seat while Bobby sat in the left-most spot, closing the door behind him. “Y’all better stop havin’ bad days,” Drayton warned, turning the truck around and heading back down the road.

“We didn’t have a bad day,” Bobby muttered, crossing his arms.

“That ain’t what I heard.”

“You didn’t hear nothin’,” Bobby snapped. Drayton turned his head sharply to glare at his little brother.

“You shut yer mouth!” He barked. Bobby flinched at Drayton’s tone, but he didn’t back down. He glared right back at Drayton with wide, shiny eyes, his lower lip sticking out in a pout.

“ _You_ don’t go ta school,” he complained, his small hands balling up into fists, “why do _we_ gotta?” Drayton bit the inside of his cheek, turning his attention back to the road. Honestly, he’d give anything to still be in school. He hated knowing that he’d never have his diploma and that working full-time had created a rift between himself and the few friends he had. He hated that any chance he’d had to be a normal teenager had been unceremoniously ripped away from him. He’d only dropped out to appease Pa. Drayton had been expected to be available to his father one hundred percent of the time, to help run the station and do chores, and to watch his brothers. And since almost five months had now passed since Pa had left, Drayton felt like he had dropped out for nothing.

“ _I_ work,” Drayton said, “you wanna work?” He was met with silence. “Y’all used ta like school.”

“ _Bobby_ liked s-sc-school,” Nubbins corrected.

“Don’t like it no more.” Drayton huffed, jerking the wheel to avoid a pothole.

“Well, that’s too damn bad. Getting’ educated ’s important.” He was met with silence once again. Bobby reached out to turn on the radio, but Drayton swatted his hand away. He found it impossible to concentrate on driving with music playing. Bobby mumbled something under his breath which Drayton couldn’t quite catch.

“So? What’d ya do?” Drayton asked, deciding he couldn’t wait until Grandma and Grandpa got home to find out just what kind of trouble the twins had gotten themselves into.

“I thought ya said you knew,” Bobby said, sounding genuinely surprised rather than snippy. Drayton shook his head.

“I said I knew you was in trouble. Never said I knew whatchu did.”

“It ain’t m-my fault!” Nubbins blurted. Drayton glanced down at him and saw that he was biting his lip and pulling his own hair by the fistful.

“Yeah,” Bobby chimed in, “Stevie started it!” This fucking Steve kid again. Drayton was beginning to wonder if maybe he’d always been a problem for the twins, and for some reason he was only just starting to hear about it now.

“What’d Stevie start?” Drayton made a wide right. Nubbins and Bobby slid across the bench seat, Nubbins bumping up against Drayton and Bobby bumping up against Nubbins. The twins scooted back to their respective seats.

“He k-ke-kept pushin’ me,” Nubbins said, “I d-didn’t e’en do nothin’a ‘im.” Bobby nodded aggressively.

“Nubbins was waitin’ fer the slide, an’ Stevie was talkin’ real mean, an’ pushin’ ‘im, a-an’, an’ Nubbins fell ‘n hit ‘is face on th’ steps,” Bobby explained hurriedly. Drayton could tell by the slight tremble in his voice that he was getting himself mad all over again just by relaying the story. Drayton briefly considered asking exactly what Steve had said but decided against it.

“I c-clicked m’teeth,” Nubbins added. Drayton winced sympathetically. That explained how Nubbins had gotten that bruise on his chin.

“Why didn’t ya get yer teacher?”

“She weren’t ‘round,” Nubbins said, “the t-teachers don’t co-come out fer recess.”

“‘sides,” Bobby grumbled, “Stevie woulda kept doin’ it after she left.” Drayton knew Bobby was probably right. He certainly never told his teachers when somebody was giving him or one of his friends a hard time. Even if they cared enough to step in, the harassment always started up again as soon as the teacher turned their back. And usually it was even worse the second time around.

“What’d ya do ta ‘im?” Neither twin answered him. When Drayton glanced over at them, they were both staring down at their laps, mouths drawn into tight lines. “Nubbins,” he said sternly, “what’d ya do?”

“Nothin’,” he squeaked.

“Tell me.”

“I di-didn’t d-do nothin’!” Nubbins insisted, kicking his short legs out in frustration.

“Fine,” Drayton snapped, “Bobby, what’d he do?” Drayton knew that Bobby would never tell on Nubbins. But the best way to get either twin to admit what he’d done was to interrogate the other. There was a brief pause. Drayton glanced out the window as they passed the station. Harry was out front, pumping gas for a woman Drayton recognized as Mrs. Adler. Her husband owned the local slaughterhouse.

“…I bit ‘im,” Nubbins finally answered in a small voice. Drayton slapped his own forehead with a loud groan.

“N—again? Again wi’ th’ bitin’ people!” Drayton shook his head. He should’ve guessed. Nubbins had bitten more than his fair share of people. Everyone in the house had been bit at least once. It had only happened when he was too mad to think straight, but even if he had only ever bitten someone once, that’d be one time too many. “People’re gonna think yer some kinda freak!” Nubbins sniffled.

“I d-don’t c-ca-care.” Drayton scoffed.

“No?” Nubbins shook his head.

“N-no.”

“I don’t care, neither,” Bobby added defensively.

“Well, _I_ do!” Drayton said, his voice cracking with exasperation. It would’ve been one thing if Nubbins had pushed Steve back. Any reasonable person who heard his side of the story would probably agree that he’d been acting in self-defense. But biting? Nubbins already got some funny looks when he was out and about—he didn’t get them near as bad as Bubba did, but it was enough to get Drayton’s hackles up. He didn’t want anybody thinking of his brother as crazy. Because he wasn’t crazy. He was just a weird kid.

“I better not hear ‘bout ya bitin’ anybody e’er again, you hear me? You ain’t some wild animal.”

“M-ma-made ‘im stop,” Nubbins mumbled. Drayton clicked his tongue.

“Maybe it worked today, but it ain’t gonna work when yer grown. Ya can’t ‘spect ta solve all’a yer problems by bitin’ people.” He made another wide turn, this time onto their property, then braked abruptly halfway up the driveway. “All you’ll do is getcherself sent ta th’ loony bin,” He said, putting the truck in park and taking the key from the ignition. “You want that?”

“No…” Nubbins said weakly.

“What was that?”

“No!” Drayton nodded once.

“Damn straight.” He paused. “Go inside.” Bobby opened the passenger door and hopped out of the cab, Nubbins on his heels.

“…Drayton?” Bobby asked, grabbing both his and Nubbins’s bags off the truck floor.

“What?” Drayton sighed, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand.

“C’n I have a ham sammich?”

“M-me too?” Nubbins piped up. Drayton snorted.

“Didn’tcha have lunch already?” Bobby shrugged, pushing his hair behind his ears.

“’m hungry ‘gain,” he said matter-of-factly. Nubbins nodded his agreement, and Drayton rolled his eyes. Leave it to kids to move on from serious subject matter unreasonably fast.

“Fine, jus’—I’ll be in in a minute. Wait fer me in the kitchen.” Drayton handed Bobby the house key.

“‘kay!” Bobby and Nubbins said in unison. Bobby slammed the passenger-side door shut, tearing after Nubbins, and then leaping up the front steps. Drayton watched Bobby fumble with the lock for a minute before he and Nubbins disappeared into the house. Drayton sighed heavily through his nose and rested his forehead against the steering wheel. He was only seventeen, and he already felt like he was too old for this shit.

**Author's Note:**

> After this incident, Grandma and Grandpa make the decision to pull the twins from public school and have Grandma attempt to homeschool them instead.


End file.
